The Doctors New Promise
by MeganBellaRoseBlack
Summary: The Doctor never tells Brian the truth. He thinks about it - he thinks long and hard - and a couple of times he even types in the painfully familiar coordinates of Leadworth, but he can never quite bring himself to allow the TARDIS to land there and for once, she agrees...Please Read and Review if you have a moment. Semi-spoilers for 7.5


The Doctor never tells Brian the truth. He thinks about it - he thinks long and hard - and a couple of times he even types in the painfully familiar coordinates of Leadworth, but he can never quite bring himself to allow the TARDIS to land there and for once, she agrees. He knows that he'll never find the right time, never find the right words, never be able to express just how very sorry he is. His promise rings in his ears and yes, Rule One, but this was a promise not a lie. A very fine line, but one that he had been unable to see the moment history and two names had been marked in stone. The memory of Brian cuts far too deep for him and so as he had done with so many things from his past, he carefully wraps Brian up and reunites him with Amy and Rory in a box in his brain boldly marked 'Painful' and tries his best to ignore the occasional stab of regret and guilt that gnaws at him whenever he has time to think.

He lets Brian believe that his only son and his bright, bold daughter-in-law were still travelling; still having marvellous adventures, each time promising that it will be their last. Still very much alive. He'll leave him to his quite cups of tea and his memories of dangling his legs off the edge of a mysterious box that drifted through time and space, lets him reminisce quietly to himself about how he had never felt such peace as he had in that moment and his ponderings on what it is his last-remaining family are getting up to. To his thoughts of 'Are they running? Are they saving people, communities, races?' To his hopes that are were happy and would have time to pop in for a cup of tea and a garibaldi soon. After all, isn't that what the Doctor does best? Give hope?

xoOox

Brian Williams often thought of Amelia Pond and her husband. He soon stopped realising that he was always keeping a quiet eye out for abandoned Police Boxes or women with startling red hair. It was force of habit to tune into the news each night and smile softly at any report with even the slightest hint of magic about it. Surely that meant the Doctor was needed? And with the Doctor came Rory and Amy. He understood that it was a busy life they both led now and it probably slipped their minds to drop in every now and then; it would probably slip his mind too if he were travelling the universe, but he often thinks he sees little messages from them. Once, Brian was passing a second hand book shop that he had passed nigh on thousands of times. It had been around Christmas and the cold had convinced him to hastily shove his gloves in his coat pocket. One had managed to escape the clutches of his heavy coat and fall to the floor and with a cheery sort of grumble, Brian had bent down to pick it up, spotting in the window of said shop a book. On closer inspection, the book that was proudly on display was a leather bound, pristine copy of Great Expectations - Brains favourite book. He'd rushed in and brought it immediately, having been told by the shop owner that it had been brought in that very morning by a peculiar man who had made him promise that it go to the very best of homes. Coincidence? Brian thought not and so had thanked the man with a vigorous hand shake and had made his way home with his book under his arm and a grin on his lips. He was sure - no, _positive - _that his wonderful son, his wife and their mad Doctor had had something to do with the delivery of this book to him. Rory had never failed to buy him the perfect Christmas present and he felt full of love for his boy that had done it again.

He does his best, but as time passes he sees the leaves begin to drop and the petals of the flowers that he promised to waster grow tinged with brown. He gives them extra water and he buys them expensive plant food from a florist and, although they look cheerier for a day or two, he lets himself into the Ponds house one day to see that they had well and truly given up the ghost. With a frown, he picks up the pots and vases and cleans them out, carefully tipping the spent soil out into the garden and throwing the dead plants into the bin. After thinking about if he should leave the vases where they where when they were full of life, he decides that they'll probably look untidy if he did, and so put them away in a cupboard that he _thinks _is where they belong - he'll never know he's wrong - and writes out a note for Amy and Rory to read if they were to ever arrive home before he has the chance to tell them their plants had perished. '_Sorry, Son. I did my best but I'm afraid that your plants are no more. Love, your old Dad x'. _He briefly considers writing that he'll replace the plants when they get home, but thinks better of it, not wanting to have a promise hanging unfulfilled for what could be a long, long time. He momentarily thinks about where to place his note and then decides on putting it in the place that a particularly bright sunflower had once stood. Guilt gnaws at him for a minute, but then he realises that there was very little he could do. He had tried his best to keep the flowers bright and alive, but as soon as a flower takes root, it is destined to wilt and die and although you can do your best - water it, help it thrive - at the end of the day, nature will claim back its child.

Brian continues to go to the Pond household. He finds the familiar scent of his son and his beautiful wife comforting and he can't help but walk through the hallway with his breath held, waiting for a hint that they were home. He listens for the kettle boiling, the TV chattering and a Scottish accent. When that fails, he looks for a hint that they _had_ been home; a mug on the side, the movement of his brief apology note or an opened door. And then he releases his held breath with a slightly disappointed sigh. He usually potters around for a few minutes making sure that everything is in place for the return of his son, ridding the house of dust and repairing the occasional failing light. Once or twice he repaints the front door when it begins to peel and fade, laboriously finding the perfect TARDIS blue and painting it so that the brush strokes are impossible to see and it is once again ready to welcome the couple home. It's around this time that a strange sense of resignation begins to wash over Brian Williams. It's a feeling that he doesn't recognise and barely acknowledges, not knowing when it began to sit in his bones - but sit it does. An old man can often forget when particular things began to happen and say 'it just did'. Their long history becomes engrained in them and they cease to even try and remember how things came about, just accepting that they did indeed happen. It's a story that's been told a million times by a million people; birds leaving the nest. Parents left behind while children go off to explore the big wide world, momentarily forgetting the people they've left behind and the people who love them who wait patiently for them to return.

Soon, dust begins to build on the work surfaces in the Pond household and this time, there is noone to lovingly repair the slowly peeling blue door. The exact shade is forgotten and the door remains locked because its keeper is unable to visit it now. His hair has grown grey and his bones have grown brittle until one day, nothing more could be done for Brian Williams. Like the plants that he had so carefully tended to all those years ago, nature claims him. Her roots knit together around him and she pulls him down to her, grounding him in the earth and secreting him away; one more human who had the privilege of seeing a tiny corner of the universe claimed, his unbelievable tales of what very few see locked away forever and his dying wish dissolved into the soil to provide the energy for new life. New beauty. New wonders.

He hopes they're happy.

He hopes they've only momentarily forgotten him and would one day remember him fondly. But he doesn't blame them. Not for one tiny millisecond. After all, what's one person when you can have the entire universe? It's probably easy to let an ageing man slip your mind when faced with the wonders of all of time and space.

On Brians grave, an unknown face but a familiar soul places a vivid sunflower and apologises for a promise shattered so many years ago and a new promise is made. One that will never, _ever _be broken.

The Doctor will _never_ forget.

_Fin. _


End file.
